Lost Brother
by TheRogueParadox
Summary: After Ed's death, Al starts worrying Winry. Most days, she'll find that he honestly believes that he is Ed. The problem is, it's hard to believe him when he looks and sounds like Al. Winry doesn't know what to think. It seems to good to be true, and she's sure that Al's just kidding himself. But on the other hand, if anyone could find a way around death, it would be Ed...


_*****Not stealing from AdventureAddict, if any of you remember that very old story by some weird coincidence. I AM AdventureAddict, just a new account. No worries, guys!**_

**Okay, now that that's out of the way, yeah, whoo, another story. Hip hip hoo freaking ray. For those of you following Frostsong, don't worry, I seriously was writing it today, so maybe sometime this week. For those of you reading any other of my stories... Yeah, you're probably screwed. **

**Anyway, this is based off one of my first stories I ever did when I was introduced to the fandom, a oneshot called "Lost Brother." I eventually rewrote it, and I always wanted to turn it into a full story line, but I could never think of the best way to do it. Well, surprise surprise, like, what eight years later, I finally figured out a way to do it. Took a while, but thank my fiction writing class at college, I guess. It's strangely really exciting to revisit this very old concept. So, anyway, moving on, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Seriously, I'm a mega old fart, do you guys still do these things? Anyone? Hello? Yes on the disclaimer? No? Guuuuuys?**

* * *

When Winry walked into the living room that morning, Al had his feet propped on the table, his hands folded behind his head, and a book lying open on his face. She sighed and peered closer, walking as silently as she knew how, trying to figure out whether he was asleep or not.

"You're really not subtle, you know," Al said, not even pulling the book off his face. Winry sighed and straightened her posture.

"So, you're awake then?"

Al grunted, still not moving from his position. Winry stared at him for a full minute, licked her lips and then clicked her tongue.

"Al…?"

Al snorted from underneath the book and shook his head. Winry felt her shoulders droop. He pulled the book off his face with one hand and fixed her with a stony gaze, one that seemed so odd coming from Al, of all people.

"Winry, how many times have we been over this?" he said. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Look, you can't blame me for that," she said, "Especially when you two look exactly the same."

He snorted and tossed his head. "_Exactly_? Since when does Al put his feet on the table?"

"Well, I don't know, since he started grieving, I guess!"

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like one of the five stages, for sure. Anger, bargaining, denial, putting one's feet on the table…"

"Everyone grieves differently, Ed!"

"What's he got to grieve? I'm right here!"

Winry stared at him in silence as tears collected in her eyes and eventually brimmed over. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, and finally waved her hand at Ed with a choked sound before running off to her room. Ed rolled his eyes with a grunt, picked up his book, and went back to sitting with his feet propped on the table.

"Women."

* * *

The knock on her door was light and hesitant, and that was how she knew it was Al. She sat up with a sigh, fluffed her hair and wiped at her eyes before croaking out, "Come in."

"There's some dinner downstairs if you want," Al said, poking his head in through the crack of the door. Ed always opened it all the way and barged in with hands on his hips, but never Al. "Soup. I mean, I don't know if it's any good, but…" He trailed off as he noticed the look on her face, and he frowned and bit his lip. "Oh no. Again?"

Winry sighed and nodded, making Al wince and look away.

"I'm sorry, Winry, I don't know how-"

"How long is this going to go on, Al?" she said. She closed her eyes and reached up to rub her temples with both hands. "I mean, I know you're going through a lot, and it's hard for you, him being your brother and all, but it's hard for me too, you know."

"I know."

"Do you really?" She snapped her eyes open and fixed him with a hard stare. "Do you know how hard it is, to go down there, and have him reading and cooking and talking to me like... like he never left? I just... I just don't know how much longer I can take you pretending to be him."

There was a long pause as the two regarded each other, Al darting his eyes about the room and licking his lips with shaking breath.

"But... But what if it _isn't _pretend?"

Winry groaned and threw her arms up in the air. The reaction made Al jump, backing himself an inch out of the door.

"Well, but, I mean, come on, Winry, what if it's not? I mean, I never even remember doing... well, whatever it is. And there are lots of other people who talk about similar things, about ghosts controlling their bodies. What if..."

"Al, this has to _stop_."

Al stopped his sentence in mid thought and stared at her.

"I can't... I can't take this anymore," she said, hugging her arms around herself. "It's like every day, the wound just gets cut open a little deeper, and I... I'm stuck here bleeding to death. You need to stop."

"I..." Al sighed and tapped his toes against the floorboards. "I don't know how to just make it stop, Winry. I don't even know what started it in the first place."

"Well, it _has _to stop!" she said, jerking her arms away from herself and throwing them in the air. "You have to find some way to make it stop, because I can't take any more of this! I-I-I'm losing my mind, Al!"

Al raised his eyebrows as he considered her for a brief moment, and then a small laugh worked its way out of him, just a snort that soon cracked and wavered and edged on hysteria. Several more laughs floated out through his mouth before he could stop them, popping in the air with greater and greater hysteria every time.

"_You're _losing your mind?" One of his laughs turned into half of a sob, and she finally looked up from the floor to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked like everything that made him human was dripping into the floor and out of him.

"I'm waking up in places I don't recognize with books I haven't read in my hands, Winry. People wave at me on the street, and I have no idea who they are, but I have to pretend that I know them anyway, because they think we're friends. I hear his voice when I go to sleep, and all I want to do is make it stop. And yet, every day I'm grateful I can hear his voice _one more time_, because it means I don't have to say goodbye for forever just yet. And every day, I get a little angrier at myself for choosing insanity over pain."

By that point, he had tears flowing down his face, and he wiped at them with a scowl. Winry recognized the scowl, but not as one of Al's emotions.

"If you think you're crazy, try living with him in your head."

Winry opened her mouth to say something,but before she had a chance, he had stormed out, his coat swirling around his ankles. The slam of the door made the whole house shake.

* * *

The cemetery had been built on the only hill in town, to prevent the flooding that dragged the corpses from their graves. It also meant that when the nightly fog rolled in around dusk, it was the first place to get touched with the smoke and shadows. The sun had only barely just decided that it was too tired to stay up any longer, and the inevitable night was approaching quickly.

She had checked the river first, since she knew that was where Al went when he was upset. When she couldn't find him there, she knew that it wasn't Al she was going to end up apologizing to.

She could see him the instant she pushed open the creaky gate. He was standing in front of a grave, his coat being whipped in all directions by the wind. After his knees, the rest of his body disappeared into the fog, and she was left wondering what expression was on his face.

He could hear her coming towards him, just like that morning, and she knew he could, so she didn't bother trying to be quiet. The grave he was standing in front of was partially hidden by the fog, but she knew the spot well enough to know whose it was. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"So I died, huh?"

"Yeah," Winry said, letting out a shaky breath.

"Why can't I remember dying?" He looked down at his hand, as if it somehow was something more than just a hand. "Why am I in Al's body? If I'm dead, why am I here?"

"It was traumatic, I guess," Winry said. When she looked up into his face, she could see two faces. The physical face of Al, and the face of Ed superimposed like some sort of double exposure. She blinked and it was gone. "For both of you. Al can't handle you being gone."

"Of course he can't, he's Al."

They stood there for a while, neither sure what to say to the other. The grave loomed in front of them like a storm cloud on the horizon. Winry ended up focusing on the cherry tree that was just outside the cemetery, at the bottom of the hill.

Ed stared at the grave. She didn't understand his morbid curiosity. If he honestly believed he had died, why would he stand and stare at his own grave for hours? Meanwhile, the sun had decided to give up its fight while they had been talking, and had sunk below the horizon. Its afterglow still stretched across the sky with an eerie tint of green.

"So..." Winry started twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "Why exactly can't Al remember the stuff you do?"

Ed shrugged and tossed his head, making his bangs fly backward and then settle back on his forehead in an awkward position. "Don't ask me, I don't know how this whole ghost thing works myself." Winry was silent, so he rolled his eyes and pressed on.

"I don't know how to explain it, Winry, it's like... It's like he's scared of being around when I am. It's like he's right here," Ed said as he held a pointer finger against his head, "But he's... I dunno, sleeping. When I show up, he just crawls into his little corner and sleeps like that. But I stay awake and watch, even when he's in charge."

Winry made a noncommittal sound, nodded, and stared at the strand of hair she had looped over her finger more times than she could count. When she let go of it, it spiraled away from her hands, still holding a tiny bit of the curl she had put into it.

"So you believe in this whole ghost thing?"

Ed snorted and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm certainly not Al, so what else is left to believe?"

Winry sighed and looked up at him, and the two locked eyes for a minute. Neither dared to break the contact, both feeling the intensity cracking between them as a physical object rather than an invisible stare. When Ed raised an eyebrow, Winry sighed and pulled away, once again focusing on twirling her hair around her finger.

"You know in ghost stories, where people don't believe that the ghost is real, and then they say something that only that person would know?"

Ed let out a heavy sigh. "You want me to prove myself."

"Can you blame me?"

"Not really, but I'm tempted to anyway." He flashed her a grin, trying to show that it was a joke and therefore okay to laugh, but Winry didn't even look up at him, let alone smile. He rolled his eyes. "So whaddya want me to do?"

"Before Ed... you... died, we... We were hanging out. About three days before it happened. And you said something really important."

Ed closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "What, Winry, do you want me to repeat the whole conversation line for line, or what?"

"No." She sighed and looked up at him again. "Just tell me what was the important thing you said."

Another moment passed between them, the energy having a sharper and more bitter tint to its edges this time. Eventually, Ed threw his hands up in the air and groaned.

"You know what, this is stupid!" he said, jabbing a finger at her. "I shouldn't have to prove anything! You can either believe me, or not, I don't even care! This... this is just stupid manipulative crap, and, and... it's stupid!"

Tears were dripping from the corners of Winry's eyes, but she was strangely dispassionate as she stared at him. "You don't remember."

Ed rolled his eyes. "I never said I don't remember, but this is ridiculous, Winry. Why can't you just believe who I am without me having to prove myself? Why do you have to be so-"

"Ed would remember," Winry said with a shake of her head. "It was too big to forget. Ed would remember, and he would tell me, because he wouldn't want to upset me."

"I only _just _died, Winry, give me a break, it's hard to remember everything-"

"He proposed."

Ed stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He blinked and straightened. "I did?"

"You did." Winry frowned and shook her head. "_He_ did. I was your brother's fiancée when he died, Al. His death affected me too."

Ed blinked at her. "But I wouldn't-"

"He did."

A long moment stretched between the two of them, glares and an argument disguised under looks of concentration and confusion. The leftover light from the sun had now vanished completely, and darkness was spreading itself over them like spilled ink.

"Come back to the house, _Al_. It's getting late."

He opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Within half a minute, he went through the entire spectrum of emotions, his eyes closed the entire time. When he finally opened them again, he looked resolved.

"Yeah. Okay."

Winry let out a sigh of relief, then gave him a tiny smile and turned towards the exit. He shot one last glance at the gravestone, before sighing and following her, jamming his hands in his pockets. As he walked out of the cemetery, he leaned every so slightly more on his right foot, and limped on his left.

* * *

**There we go. I'm actually heading into class right now to turn this in as a short story (well, this with several edits done to it so people don't have to rely on FMA). Still not sure whether going with FMA 2003 or Brotherhood, though I might just have to go with BH, since that's where all the new fandom is. Anyway, hopefully I'll write more soonish, though work and school are killers, so we'll see, heh heh heh. Thanks for reading guys, and feel free to suggest anything you want to see or whatever else comes to mind. **


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